Even the strongest may fall
by gaaraluver63
Summary: Sakura Haruno knows she isn't a fragile girl that cries when she's hurt. She knows better then to love and trust everyone. And she knows better then to become friends with school heart throbs. But even the toughest hearts have breakable walls.AU
1. Death

I ran forward, without a care. My thoughts had left rationality a while a go, and they weren't going to return soon. Salty drops had already cascaded freely and, for me, that meant my heart had been opened for once.

"Dumb ass heart with dumb breakable wall," I growled through gritting teeth, still running, still not caring. I'm not one to cry, or let anything get to me. Tears always stay constrained when you learn that rejection is normal in your life. It was a major player in mine. Not love rejection: that I really could care less about. I'm thinking more along the lines of straight out family rejection. I am the out cast in mine, but I'm used to it: I deal with it. No, tears didn't come because of that. These droplets fell with raw sadness, laced with confusion

'Always me isn't it,' I wondered, not having much breath left to talk to myself anymore. The sadness felt strange to me. I wanted it to leave, but it was telling me "Nope, deal with me."

I felt out of breath shortly, and decided passing out would not be pleasurable at the moment, so I settled by a tree to rest. Countless images flashed by my eyes, recalling events, recalling my tears. Death wasn't new to me, just to say the least. In fact, we became close friends, but he had an obsession with me. I had told him countless times to go see a shrink, but he though himself perfectly healthy. Right now, though, I knew Death was perfectly insane and needed major counseling.

In my life, I hold few things dear to me. Most things, I couldn't care less about. I guess I hold food, clothes, books, and a couple friends close to me. I guess I have more like one friend now… Hinata. I used to have 2: Hinata and Ami. But, like I said, Death is mental right now and should be quarantined. Maybe a restraining order would work for a little. At the moment, he had taken another person close to me. One of the few people I hold dear.

'She's gone, she told me crying is okay, so here I am Ami, crying for you,' I thought slowly, wishing the flow would stop. To me tears were just small droplets of weakness that showed on your face and slid slowly to the floor. To Ami, they were, well had been, a way to express emotions, like happiness or sadness. Her arguments had always been better, so I had eventually succumbed to her theory: even if I never shed a tear.

I lifted my head up slowly and glanced at the darkening sky overhead. I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Soon, it'd be dark and I would never find my way home. Making the wise decision, my arms slowly pushed up from the damp ground I had been sitting on. My feet picked up speed as they guided me back to where I'd been. Smaller branches whipped my face and I could feel the cuts open. The sting brought more tears to my eyes and I cursed under my breath.

It didn't take me long to stumble upon my jail, my house, again. The pale sun had slowly starting to set below the tops of tall trees. Their long shadows stretched along my house, creating an eerie effect.

"Perfect," I mumbled, walking up to the wooden front door. It opened with a slight creak, but, hell, it always did. Few lights were on, except for those in the kitchen and the one in the family room. My step mom was probably cooking dinner while the men in the family became slobs in front of the television. I, myself, avoided both rooms and climbed up the wooden stairs that rested in front of me. Each one sunk a little when I applied pressure and each one creaked as I stepped. 45 steps later, I reached the top and strolled away to my poor excuse for a room.

A small cot lay in the right corner, a thin white blanket the only comfort it allowed. Next to it, a reading lamp rested on a brown side table, books stacked up around it. Cardboard boxes contained clothes and shoes, five of them stacked together. A small mirror was attached to the wall and a picture was clipped to it. My slender fingers touched it slowly, gliding over the faces that smiled in the picture. Three girls stood next to each other: one with blue hair, long like a rushing waterfall, one with black that sparkled in the pale lights of the stars and moon, and one with pink hair, matching the blossoms that fall and dance in the hair. I sighed and walked over to the bed. Sadness and tears made me tired, weary. My eyes closed when I hit the pillow.


	2. Monday Morning Grief

A/N: I am so sorry for the forever update. I have this procrastinating problem and it really sucks. I'll try to be consistent from now on but I can't promise anything. Please enjoy this chapter and review (duh)

My eyes were heavy, refusing to open when I finally came to my senses. I opened my mouth and let out a yawn, stretching my arms above my head. Unwelcome sunlight shimmied in from a small window above. The glare hit my closed eyes and I inwardly cursed.

"Son of a bitch," I murmured, only then realizing how corny that sounded, so I resorted to flipping the sun my middle finger. Raising a hand to shield my face, my eyes cautiously opened and shifted their gaze to the watch on my right wrist. The bright green numbers arranged to form a foggy 6:32. That left 43 minutes for me to wake up.

"Also in that time, I have to clean myself up, eat, and finish last night's homework. Oh joy," I growled, sitting up in the bed. My body groaned in displeasure. Trying to ignore the aches in my legs, I swung long legs over the side. The wooden floor felt cold under my bare feet and I flinched at the touch. Floors were always annoyingly cold in the morning. Someone should make floors with little warming things in them so they never go cold. Oh yeah, that would be nice. Sighing I stood up and teetered over to the boxes in the corner, searching for my school uniform. Clothes flew through the air as my hands searched for the outfit.

"Dammit! Where did you run off to this time," I harshly said, frantically looking, "I can't get another detention for not having my uniform." My breath was heavy when I finally had gone through every cardboard box, unfortunately not finding the uniform that was MIA. I glanced up form the scattered piles, scanning the room. Soon, they spotted something and I slapped myself on the head. Slung over the headboard of my cot were a white shirt, plaid skirt, tie, and green socks.

"Found you," I sang getting up from my position on the ground, feeling quite stupid for missing the uniform and throwing all my other clothes around the room. I grabbed the outfit and headed out my bedroom door, sliding out into a dimly lit hallway. All the lights were out in the house save for a night light in the corridor. I wasn't surprised to see that no one was up yet. My family usually doesn't wake up until 9.

The door closest to mine was open, revealing a small bathroom. I stepped in, closing the door in the process. The clothes I held were thrown onto a hanger on the wall. A small shower was at my right and my arm slid behind the curtain, turning the faucets. Small droplets splashed upon my hand as the water rose into an arc. I peeled my pajamas off me and stepped into the spray. The cold water woke up my sleepy senses and my brain slowly started to function. Thoughts entered my mind, repeating the events of yesterday to me, making me remember.

'Ah, yes. Ami died last afternoon. What a wonderful wake up call. Thank you, brain,' I thought bitterly, striking the tiled wall with a closed hand. Monday mornings and grief do not mix like steak and potatoes, and they don't taste as good either: Unless it was a cake called "Monday Morning Grief". That would be a slight exception. But no one's done that yet, so you can completely ignore the exception. Hoo Yeah! Accidental hope raiser!

I slowly pulled myself away from my thoughts and washed my hair. The smell of strawberry shampoo overloaded my senses.

"Oh shit, strawberries," I groaned looking at the bottle. I try to avoid any scented hair products because having pink hair causes people to look at you anyways, I don't need scents to make them look.

"Ugh, I don't have time for this." Quickly, I turned the knobs and the water stopped. Wiping soap from my eyes, I attempted to step out of the shower but slipped instead. I just caught myself on the edge of the sink and growled curses under my breath. Today was starting out to really not be my day, though that seems to happen often. I fumbled for a towel, dried myself off, and then threw on my uniform. I glanced at my watch when I finished.

'7:00, that means I have…. 15 minutes,' I thought, mentally cursing myself for taking forever. I grabbed my toothbrush and comb, trying to save time by doing both at once. Of course, since things have to get screwed up, the toothpaste skillfully missed the toothbrush and my hair tie snapped.

"Gotta go, gotta go." After finding another hair tie, which is a great feat thank you, and brushing my teeth, I dashed out of the bathroom and slid down the banister, landing nicely on one foot, though teetering slightly. Clambering my way into the kitchen, I foraged through the pantry for food. I felt around until my fingers lay on a package of crackers.

"5 minutes." I stuffed the poor excuse for breakfast into my pocket and snagged my backpack from under the table. Do not ask me how it got there: I really could not tell you. Bounding towards the door, I snatched my flats up from the Welcome mat, and almost threw them onto my feet. Trying not to kill the door in the process of opening and locking it, I saw the yellow school bus creeping up to my stop. My mind willed my feet to run to the octagonal stop sign, arriving just as the bus came to rest. The doors opened and the bus driver was looking at me as though observing my every molecule.

"You're early, Sakura," she said, her voice gravely.

"People like me do have those rare moments," I explained, climbing the bus steps.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this amzingly short chapter....


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